An Unfinished Life.

I made the mistake of going to work yesterday.

I thought after two days of inconsolable crying, insatiable eating and a search for answers regarding Marie's death that I needed to get out of the house. I needed some distraction from the sheer weight of my grief. I spent Wednesday night drafting a letter to her family, explaining how much she meant to me and that I will feel her loss forever. That she will never be replaced but that if I could offer any kind of comfort during this terrible time, I am only a phone call away.


I haven't talked to her family since Tuesday. I want to. I need to. But every time I summon up the courage, I cry. I've cried so much these last few days that I'm getting terrible head pains. I even fucking forgot to eat yesterday. My appetite is endless, I'm compensating I know, but having a full belly is comforting for some reason. My stomach has felt so empty these last few days and food is the only, fleeting, relief. As someone who rarely drinks soda, I have been cradling the bottle (funny, for most people this would be alcohol. me, soda) because the bubbles make me feel full.

Because my appetite has been irregular I can't tell the difference between actual hunger and sorrow hunger (if such a thing exist), and I went the whole day having just consumed two cans of soda and a pretty gross doughnut. I forgot to actually make something for myself to eat. Who forgets to eat. Obviously I am not coping well. I didn't think i'd ever have to go through this form of coping. But I will learn how and it will get easier and I will be strong again. Not today but one day. Until then my appetite is shot to hell.


And I guess this is why I wanted to go to work yesterday. I wanted to attempt get out of bed and away from the hunger and away from the isolation. But I failed miserably.


The moment I walked in everyone knew something was wrong. I carry my emotions on my face and the sadness seeped through. Everyone immediately asked what was wrong: are you pregnant? (I kept clutching my hungry belly, i don't blame this person for asking, though it was not the question i was expecting), Did you break up with your boyfriend? (but i don't have a boyfriend) Did someone beat you up? Did you beat someone up? Can I beat someone up for you? (can you fix a broken heart?purty please).


And this questioning went on my whole shift. My night consisted of 'what's wrong with Beckett' inquiries. I worked, I answered phones, I pretended to be a functioning human being but everyone knew it was all an act. I kept going to the bathroom, every hour it seemed, to cry and would come back with red eyes. My voice quivered a lot. I avoided eye contact. And I fucking forget to eat. I waltz through work like a zombie. I carried Marie in my head and heart all day. I thought about the first time we met (my first day of 7th grade), I thought about prom night and how we attended for two seconds and then got burritos, I thought about how annoying she used to be in movies (she'd talk through the whole damn thing). I thought about our plans for the future which she took to her grave. I thought about my friend, who I'll miss forever.

And while everyone was very concerned for me yesterday they continued (as they should have) to go on with their day. They joked around with one another, made plans for the weekend, complained about life all the while checking in on my every once in a while. And i was jealous and upset and frustrated because just two weeks ago I was one of them, when i didn't know the sheer weight of Marie's hopelessness. What I wouldn't give to be back at the place and time again.

And I am not good with people consoling me. I get terribly emotional and then guilty for burdening them with my ailments. This makes me angry and stubborn. so i push people away who wish to tend to me. I was receptive to some people's attempt of comfort yesterday (i readily accepted hugs and 'i love u, when you are ready to tell me what is wrong, I'm here') but others i refused any sort of comfort from. McAb's mainly.

I unfortunately ran into him just as he (whose real name is Sean) walked in for his shift and the moment he saw me he wanted a hug. But I ignored his request, continued doing what i was doing (looking at the daily assignment sheet) and fought back tears. He called my name again and made a sigh like 'oh you are still being really weird cause you think your friend is missing or some shit'. The sound he made was sheer exasperation, like 'when the hell is she going to get over whatever she is going through'. And grant it save but Blue, no one knows how my search for Marie ended but I didn't want to fucking hug him. I didn't want to be anywhere near him and we he attempted to pull me in for a hug, I nearly became violent.

I don't open up to people much about my life outside of work and I guess my issue and disappointment towards Sean is that when I needed him last week to just listen to my concerns about Marie he told me to 'do what i did before i knew her, move on'. That sentence will play in my mind every time i see him. I know we aren't that close friends, we've rarely hung out outside of work and I couldn't tell you much about his past. I am just one of the many girls he flirts with on a regular basis. I am another chick who helps his ego.

But last week I was looking for a friend in Sean. I put down my own flirty tendencies toward him and simply wanted his opinion. Because I felt Kat was too emotional, and my friend Michelle too unstable. I couldn't go to Blue, then, because he was off working. I went to Sean because he always comes to me for problems and I've been very attentive. And I wanted, needed him, to care enough to listen and be supportive.

And that mother fucker shrugged my concerns off. He didn't know her or didn't care that I thought my best friend was missing (which at the time i thought she was). And when he asked me for a hug yesterday (again in the break room this time), I became so fucking ill. Every bone in my body locked up, i grew rigid and clutched my stomach (which began to hurt) and pulled away from him. But he grabbed my arm anyway (a little to rough for my liking) and asked me what was wrong and that I need to talk to someone about whatever the hell is going on with me, so i pulled away again and backed into a corner and closed my eyes again and told him to go away. "Why won't you talk to me" he kept repeating and all i could do was shake my head. He did leave me alone then, only after someone walked in to the break room for water.

He wouldn't leave me alone after that though. Now sensing that something was wrong, he begged me to talk to him (but i tried and you were no help), that I was being too sad and sullen which was making him miserable (oh, I'm sorry. let me ask you how you are after your best friends shoots herself in her fucking head and leaves a suicide note that resembles a fucking grocery list of what to do once her body after it is found!) that he was there to talk and he would follow me around until i did (can't follow me into the girls bathroom asshole). A part of me wanted to let him know that my gut instinct was right. I wanted to scream and shout at him for being wrong, and for not caring. I wanted to tell him that I KNEW something terrible was wrong with my best friend and I needed him to be some form of support just to make me feel better and he completely disregarded my fears and the thought of him ever touching me again feels like death.

Around 8 o'clock I'd completely lost it. From my frequent bathroom trips where i bawled my eyes out, to dodging concerned co-workers all the while trying to stop myself from vomiting, I called my mom and broke down. I cried loud and hard outside in a corner where no one could see me. I told her that I made a mistake going to work and that I was angry and sad at Marie for what she did and how she felt these last few months. And my mom, who surprisingly kept it together, told me that I have to go through this pain in order to continue living. That maybe I should talk to someone about Marie, about my pain, to take another day to myself to remember her and begin to make peace with life without her.

And the words helped. I cried a little less the rest of the night ( key word: less). Made it through the next two hours of my shift and then cried on the walk home. I never thought I'd join the club of people who'd have to deal with the loss of a loved one by suicide. Especially Marie's. I am literally blindsided by the decision she made to end her life, especially since we spent most of our time talking about the future. About traveling together and meeting boys and settling down and being friends forever. About her being the aunt to my children and the promise she made that if I decided to name my first born daughter Carrick ( i think it's interesting) that she would call her Carrot to taunt me.

This was our year of awesomeness! We talked about getting our acts together and being the secure 20 something year olds ready to take on the world. She wanted to come to New York this summer to visit, I was going to take her to Bleecker Street where all the cute boys roam. I was going to show her a nerdy good time because I knew she needed a nerdy good time.Her act of suicide has all but destroyed those plans and I will forever feel like i am living for two now. I don't know why she thought death was the best alternative. Even when I am in the depths of despair there are things that carry me out of it. My mom, the sound of the wind, sunlight....her. And I can't believe that during her final minutes she couldn't conjure any of that up to stay.

And I am not ashamed of Marie, I am not. But I am struggling to explain her death to people because it was suicide. If she'd die say by cancer or in a car accident or by some crazy homicidal maniac I could place her death on someone else/things shoulder. Instead a part of my grief will forever be marred by anger because she took her life and I am conflicted by feelings of complete and utter grief and anger towards the person i love who decided that that alone wasn't enough to live.

Today is her memorial and I just couldn't make it through work with people asking what was wrong. So I called out and spent the day with my cats. I know the solitude is bad but for today it is necessary. I don't know who I am without Marie. Since I was 12 this girl has been such a huge part of my life. Maybe the problem is that for so long I have felt defined by her existence. She was my voice of reason, my motivator, my link to the past. I told her everything. I shared my ideas with her, I admitted my passions with her and readily ate up her suggestions and critique regarding my writing. Who will understand my lame jokes, who will tease me about liking dudes with square foreheads....who will call my future daughter (years and years from being born) Carrot.


I'm worried that I won't be able to write again (she helped me focus my thoughts). That I won't be able to open up again ( i admitted everything to her). That along with this grief i will carry with me this inability to love anyone as much as I loved her. Because I gave her my all, and that wasn't enough you see.

Despite the friends I have here and the support I am getting from the few people I have let into this personal tragedy no one will ever understand the magnitude of Marie's friendship. She was my soul mate, my kindred spirit and the only person I felt truly connected to. And I'm not saying I won't feel that way again, I'm not saying that independent of her I can't still lead this extraordinary life. I am saying that it will be incredibly hard, and I will miss her dearly and I will continue to try and understand her death even if the clues lead me back to the fact that she depressed and didn't want to handle life anymore.

It's a beautiful day outside, sunny and chilly and the wind is caressing the branches ever so softly and I'll regret that she won't be able to see or find comfort in any of these things anymore. I'm worried that her soul is stuck somewhere and that she hasn't found peace in the afterlife. She didn't believe in god and if he/she does exist that maybe this act does not allow for entry into heaven or the pleasant place in the crevice of the clouds. I'll give up my spot there if that means she can enjoy heaven now.

I want to be the strong one able to deal with this better than I have been but I must admit in these last few days I've wished for someone to help lessen this pain. I feel weak and am achy and numb. I simply want a shoulder to cry on and a hug so tight it eliminates the pain already coursing through me. I have this desire and repulsion to be touched and consoled. I feel out of breath and in need of a respirator and i have spent most of my days in bed, wishing that there was a warm body nearby that i could fold into that would breathe for both of us.

And I apologize in advance for writing so much about the last few days. But the writing helps. Lately it's the only thing helping. It has always been my way to understand what my body can't process. It has been my way, these last few days, of coping. The few people and resources I have sought out to process her death all mention the heartbreak of coping. There is just no choice but to. I have family and friends that I love, I have aspirations and dreams that I want to make reality, and I have no choice but to put one foot in front of the other and continue living. I have no choice but to cope and continue to learn to cope with her not being here anymore.